the paper.” David’s voice was muffled and punctuated with the sound of metal tools on metal pipes. “She was watering the flower beds and asked if I could take a look at her clog.”
“Weird.”
“What?”
“She hasn’t said a word about a plumbing problem.”
The banging and grunting stopped, and David blew out a long sigh. “Maybe she thought she could handle it.”
“It’s just that usually Buck Ester takes care of her home repairs. I would’ve called and scheduled him for this morning if I’d known she needed him to stop by.”
“Your mom’s a smart cookie, Avery.” David shifted on his hip, and drew up one knee. His jeans stretched tight in all the right places, hung loose in all the right others. “Give her some credit here for taking care of her own business. Shouldn’t be that hard for you to do. You know as well as I do that she’s more than capable.”
“True.” Avery hardly needed this man’s reminder of her mother’s growing independent streak. “Not that you know her that well.”
“She taught me English for most of four years. And now we’re on the same faculty.” Another grunt and David went back to his banging.
“She taught four years of English to everyone at Tatem High.”
“And I’ve lived and worked with her now for ten months.”
“You haven’t lived with her. You’ve rented living space from her.” She wasn’t sure why the distinction mattered, but it did. Especially with the way David seemed to be making himself at home.
“Believe what you want, Avery.”
The aluminum legs of her chair scraped the linoleum like nails on a chalkboard as she pulled it out to sit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
David grumbled beneath his breath. “Whatever you want it to mean. Obviously you’re the expert here on your mother.” He paused, grew still, as if making sure he had her full attention before he added, “Bringing breakfast when she’s not even here and all that.”
And why wasn’t she here? Surely Suzannah had done no more than make a run to the grocery for sugar, butter or cream. Avery noted the gurgle and steam from the coffeemaker and the white ceramic mug sitting on the countertop. Oh, but she needed coffee. “So…she asked you to look at her sink, then just left you here?”
Again with the grumbling and grunting and banging—each one louder than the last. “Yeah. But she locked up her jewelry and extra cash first.”
“That’s not what I meant.” And it wasn’t, she thought, cringing. It was just that she’d had trouble saying anything around David and making her meaning clear for ten months now.
No, that wasn’t true.
Since football season of their senior year at Tatem High and that night beneath the bleachers neither of them had spoken of since, she’d been unable to say anything to him without wondering what he expected of her…if he expected anything at all.
Not knowing bothered her. It bothered her a lot. “I just thought she might’ve mentioned where she was going. Or maybe when she’d be back?”
“Nope. Not a word.”
Avery sighed. She really felt out of sorts here. Over the past five years, she’d become quite used to her routine. A routine filled with work, church and time spent with her mother. A routine she told herself was part of a very good and comfortable life, one that made her happy. She sighed again.
“Coffee’s done. Would you like me to pour you a cup?” she asked, out of her chair now and on her way for one of her own. Years of observing her mother at work in Suzannah’s circle of friends had taught Avery that food and drink were the great equalizers when it came to discomfiting situations.
And no one had ever unbalanced Avery Rice more than David Marks. She had no explanation except chemistry, and being a baker, not a chemist, limited her knowledge of chemical reactions to that of yeast.
He squirreled around and backed out from under the sink, staring up at her with lazy, sleepy eyes that sent her stomach tumbling. He gave her a wink and a grin and nodded. “I’d kill to have you pour me a cup,” he said, and she turned away before her stomach fell completely to her feet.
Behind her, he got up. She sensed rather than saw his movements as he washed his hands and rebuttoned his shirt, and she had to admit relief. It was impossible to think of him as the soft-serve tornado mascot when his body brought to mind all things…hard.
Chair legs squeaked as